


Unfinished Various Fiction

by rockinellie



Category: multiple - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinellie/pseuds/rockinellie
Summary: Unfinished fanfics for a variety of fandoms.





	1. Cedfia- Lively

**Author's Note:**

> These are being kept here so if I need/want to get to them while traveling I know exactly where they are. :)
> 
> If you read them I hope you enjoy I guess? They're unlikely to ever be finished.
> 
> This one is for my 100 Cedfia.

Lively

The sound of heavy skirts dragging on the stone steps to his room reached him before she did. Honestly it was strange to him that they hadn’t just given her a nicer version of her peasant outfits. After all, she didn’t spend time much outside of his chambers these days. In the morning she would come running up, in the afternoon they’d have lunch together, and she’d leave for dinner and stay gone until the next morning. But perhaps the dress was there to keep him an arm’s length away so he wouldn’t make a pass at the now-of-age Princess. Or maybe, more likely, it was to remind her not to make a pass at her teacher who she greatly admired. 

Months previous to her spending all day in his tower he had given her a copy of the key in case he wasn’t in and she wanted to get started. In reality he did anything that would take him from the room while she was in his presence. Herb gathering happened in the dead of night, getting supplies like ink and parchment was relegated to servants who didn’t spend time with the delightful Princess. He was lucky, for now, that Sofia was so eager to spend so much time with him. Certainly she would be assigned some Prince or another soon to make the kingdom stronger and she would move on (forcibly, since her doting on him had never changed). It was a surprise to him when there was a light knock on his door, and frowning he called out to just come in. Why make a show of things that didn’t need it?

Shortly the door opened and he turned to scold her for dragging his attention away from his writing, but instead of his lavender bundle of excitement he was met with the cold and far-away look of the elder sister. A fan hung from her wrist, her golden hair tied up in stylish curls, and her gown was an ugly shade of yellow that Cedric knew had to be a way to get back at her from her stylist.

“Ah, Princess Amber. I apologize, I thought you were Princess Sofia.” Cedric bowed from his seat, knowing their familiarity prevented him from having to stand and bow fully.

Amber frowned in response but made no mention of his appearance (not great) or his chambers (worse). Instead she only said, “Sofia is sick, and she asked you make her a potion to help. I think she said it was page 872 of the blue book. Now that that’s taken care of, farewell. I have a flying horse derby to attend.” 

The door slamming knocked a few haphazardly placed tomes fall from the shelf nearest the exit, and he listened quietly to make sure she made it down the steps before he started to look for a blue book. In all of his years living in this tower he had never once bought or used a book that was not a dreary shade of plum or black. Perhaps the Princess was feverish when she requested Amber to bring him this bit of information. Half-heartedly he did look through his piles of spell books before deciding to check Sofia’s work station. Since she had started spending days in here he h ad suggested she set up her own desk to work at, and so she had.

It was the only thing in his tower that was not dark in color and old in age. The lavender-painted wooden desk sat under the window in his tower, and everything upon it was meticulously cared for. Along the top were some of her first projects, a ruby here and a bluebell in a pot. On the left side was a little case filled with quills and beside it was an ink pot. Below that was a pile of books she must have been looking over. The blue book was not there. Down the left side of the desk was a series of drawers, from the table top to the floor. Slowly he opened each one until, in the middle one, there sat a robin’s egg blue grimoire. It was quite large and Cedric was surprised she was able to lug the thing around. He lifted it to her table and flipped to page 872. Each page was written in her beautiful, flowery writing and in purple ink. Each page was numbered in the right corner. Between some pages there were pressed flowers. The notes on each page were meticulous, detailed, and easy to follow. Before he had even realized how much work it would have taken her to put the information in that book together into one cohesive book that she could utilize he had already prepared the potion she had requested. He slipped it into his pocket and headed down to her chambers to visit.

 

Sofia’s rooms had changed some since she was younger. The old castle playset had been donated to the maid’s children long ago, the small pillow for her rabbit now rested on a shelf of mementos along one of her walls. Anything left over from her childhood rested there as well. The bed hadn’t changed, but she did have a vanity now and artwork decorated her walls. Some paintings of her close friends were small and placed on her dresser next to smaller mementos of her past days.  
Upon his arrival the Princess was sitting up in bed, reading a novel. The maid led him in, announced him, and left them alone. Cedric relaxed as soon as the door was shut. Around others there was an air of importance, an air of necessary decorum that as soon as they were alone dissipated into relaxed friendship. Sofia's hair was brushed into soft waves, though her crown rested on her vanity and not on her head. Normally she was in big, billowy dresses that took up entirely too much room. Seeing her lying in bed in a thin shift covered with a dressing gown made her seem frail. The silence stretched for a moment until she broke it.

“Hello, Mister Cedric. I’m sorry I couldn’t come up today.” Her voice was scratchy, low, and pitched out entirely throughout her sentence. 

Wincing he stepped forward, holding the vial of sparkling champagne-colored potion to her. “It’s quite alright, Princess. Your sister stopped by, very kind of her to give me vague directions before hurrying off to some kind of derby.”  
Sofia smiled at him and took the vial, “I didn’t give her much more information, I’m afraid. It looks like you found my book just fine, though.” Cedric watched while she drank the entire vial, and took the empty container from her to put back in his pocket. “It’s been my little project. I think someday our apprenticeship will be over, and I’d like to keep as much of your wisdom as possible with me, always.”

“That’s very nice.” Cedric wasn’t sure what to do with himself now, and glanced around her room to try to appear like he wasn’t worried about standing over her chatting while she was in bed for very long. If he was sitting, that would be better. “I apologize but I really must be go-“

“Have a seat.” Sofia interrupted him, pointing at a comfortable looking plum chair set up near her bed. Her smile when he shot her a questioning look confirmed that the chair had been placed there for his use and his use alone. “It’s very lonely being sick. I’d like it if you sat and kept me company for a little while!”

Cedric sat in the appointed chair but didn’t know what to do with himself. Sofia watched him as he attempted to watch anything that /wasn’t/ her. He looked at the comforter, the canopy above her head, the wall across the way, the shelf of knick knacks, literally anything that wasn’t her big blue gaze. “I am surprised you fell ill so quickly, Princess Sofia.”

“Me too! I was having a really nice dream and everything and then when I woke up it was just, oh. Pain? Lots of pain in my throat and chest, and lots of coughing. But I found this potion in one of your dustier tomes while cleaning your workspace, and I thought it sounded useful, so luckily I recently transcribed it and remembered what page it was on!” 

“That is very lucky…”

Sofia smiled when he agreed and continued happily on, “Yes! I thought so. If I have to be sick, so close to me finding a good way to feel better is the best way to be sick!” 

“Very true, Princess.” Cedric nodded absently, staring at a place above her head.

“Are you alright?” She asked softly, and the sorcerer jumped when her hand took his. Her small fingers laced through his calloused ones. “Mister Cedric, if you’d like, you can leave. Don’t ever think you /must/ do something because I’m a Princess.”  
“You aren’t ‘A’ Princess, you are my Princess, in the kingdom where I live and work. If you were from another land you know very well your standing has no bearing. However, I work for your Father, the King. And in any case, I have never considered that you would force me to do much of anything that isn’t something I want to do.”

“Your happiness has always mattered to me, Mister Cedric.”

Cedric gently pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms, frowning a little. “I see. That’s good to know. At least it matters to someone in this castle. Were you planning on attending this Derby thing Princess Amber attended?”  
“No, of course not.” Sofia shook her head, pulling her hands back to her lap. Her fingers played with the edge of her novel. “I was going to spend my day like I always do.”

“Locked up in a dreary tower learning about magic,” Cedric sighed deeply, “Princess, it is important for you to make friends among your age group. In any case, perhaps spending time outside of my dusty tower would be good for you. Only sorcerers need to spend so much time studying and apprenticing themselves.”

Sofia bit her lip and looked at her lap, “Well, actually…”

Although he had been expecting her to ‘grow up’ sometime soon, her hesitation and nervous behavior had him on edge. Every fiber of his being was strained tight while trying to appear loose and uncaring, and although he tried, he leaned forward just a bit and gazed at her intensely. This was it, he could feel it, she was going to tell him she was betrothed (what a loss of a student!) or that she was busy from here on out with other things and could no longer be bothered with his sad state. Without realizing it, his breath caught in his throat and refused to be expelled and his nails dug into his palms.

“See, I was thinking of becoming a sorcerer myself.”

Cedric stared in disbelief. With a sudden gasp he let his breath out and his body relaxed. Oh, good. She wasn’t going to be leaving him to his own devices just yet. Sofia glanced at him, although his relaxed posture and obvious relief and delight made her relax as well. 

“A sorcerer? Why the sudden change in heart, Princess?” Cedric relaxed into the chair now, letting his arms rest while he reclined in the cozy chair. 

Sofia pondered for only a moment: “Well, I don’t think it really is a change of heart. After all, as soon as I found out I could do magic I was excited! And I became your apprentice at like, six! So I think that sorcery has always been my true passion. I was forced to be a Princess, I /chose/ to be a sorceress!” She smiled brightly before continuing, “And I could spend all day with you, all the time!”

“Yes, that’s true.” Cedric didn’t hesitate because he did not think before speaking. But as soon as he realized what he said his cheeks tinged a pink


	2. Cedfia- Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will likely finish this one. Maybe. I don't know.
> 
> NSFW.

Power

It had been hours since he had been left in the tower alone. The moonless night offered no comfort to him. His chair was situated beneath the open glass window, a cool breeze ruffling his hair as he sat in silence. One hand held a half-empty wine glass, the other gently holding a page of his book aloft. The day had been tiring, and the empty wineglass beside his chair was proof that it had taken a toll on him. Early in the day he had to sit in on a brunch between his apprentice, Princess Sofia, and a would-be suitor. If anyone thought the Princess was ready to be married, they were sorely mistaken. As he had hoped she spent the entire brunch deflecting the Duke’s advances. Every time he had complimented her, she only asked him politely about his interests, and when they said good-bye she curtsied and excused herself. Cedric himself had only stayed a moment to enjoy the look of bewilderment on the man’s face before he too left the dining room. Ah, if only her parents had paid attention to her interests they would have known. Nobody ever seemed to pay attention to her like he did. In fact, it seemed silly to him that she needed to be seeing other men at all.

Sofia had him, after all, and he was good to her. Better than good! He was wonderful to her, even. If anyone got to marry the girl it should be himself! Logically she should marry someone human like her so that they didn’t age at different rates. No doubt she would be happy to grow old with someone like Hugo or Zandar. Sorcerers were known for aging incredibly slowly and as such, despite Sofia going on twenty, he looked no different than he had when she was only eight. For a moment a lucid thought crept through his brain: Cedric, she grew up with you and knows you well. Perhaps it was better to let her be. Once someone knew him, he was sure they would no longer be very interested romantically. As soon as he relaxed back into his chair his veins seemed to warm up, and he sat up again. No, whispered the wine, she loves you. 

It was decided then! With a snap he shut the book and set it on the ground. Tilting the glass to his lips he finished the last of his bottle and set that down as well. It was a few moments before he was out the door and heading down the staircase to the main hall. Luckily for him it was late. Stumbling over one’s own two feet was not becoming of most, let alone the Royal Sorcerer. And stumble he did, using the wall to support himself as he followed a familiar route. No, he had never gone into her chambers, but he did know their location. Often he would walk past to see what she was up to. Now he wanted to speak to her and it was likely she would be in her room at this hour. Likely, but not promised. Never once during his walk to her private room did he think that perhaps this was a bad idea. In actuality, this was the best idea he had ever had and no doubt in his mind on her feelings for him. None at all. So when he finally did reach her bedroom door, it was with no hesitation that he rapped his knuckles on the door itself. There was silence from the other side and in a moment he repeated the action. The sound of feet on tile came from the other side and he felt a jolt in his heart when the door unlocked and slid open. A bleary eyed princess stood in the entrance. For a moment his dark eyes raked over her petite frame. Her soft brown hair was loose in waves down her back, kinked a little from sleeping. That was lovely and cute, of course, but his attention was kept by her sheer summer nightgown, a lavender thing that reached the floor and had no sleeves. It was tied by her throat with a white ribbon, and above that was her amulet. 

“Cedric?” She asked softly, her voice tired and raspy. A small hand reached up to rub her eyes, clearly not seeing him clearly. It was the middle of the night and because of that her brain didn’t seem to be functioning clearly. Standing in her bedroom doorway was her mentor, his cravat loosely undone, his robes open, his shirt untucked, and without shoes. Not to mention he smelled peculiar: sweet but tangy. 

“Yes,” He said, breathless suddenly. Before she could say much he stepped clumsily forward, wrapping his arms around her small waist, pushing her into her bedroom and shutting the door behind himself with his foot. A reverberating ‘bang’ sounded in the hallway. 

Sofia was alarmed, and at once she stiffened in his grip. Clearly there was something wrong, there must be someone in the castle and he needed help or was protecting her. Sleep was losing its grasp on her and she looked around. Before she could ask him anything, yet again he was surprising her. Softly, almost tentatively, he leaned forward into her…Sofia shoved him. Hard, in his chest, and he went reeling backwards. Quickly she darted a few steps out of his reach.

“Cedric!” She cried, sleep gone as her eyes widened in surprise. “What on Earth? Why- is there someone in the castle? Do we need to run?” 

Puzzled, he looked at her through hooded eyes. She was strong and he leaned against her wall, considering how to approach this. Rejection didn’t sting at all since he knew he had surprised her. Shaking his head slowly he denied anyone in the castle. Sofia stared at him as her mind tried to come up with reasons why he was here, staring at her, alone in her room.

“Princess.” His husky voice startled her out of her thoughts and her gaze shifted from his collar to his face. “I must know, please. Please.” He took a shaky breath, and asked in a low tone, “Why have you not accepted a suitor yet?” His lips pulled tight over his mouth and he seemed to be controlling his face into an almost-passive expression. Yet, his eyes glittered with something she couldn’t quite grasp. The silence stretched between them. “Princess, don’t keep me in agony anymore. Tell me, tell me. He was fine. Why refuse so many?”

Sofia sighed softly, “I don’t understand why you are here this late to ask me silly questions, Mister Cedric. It is late, and we are alone, which is improper. Perhaps you can ask me again in the morning?”

“No.”

“What?” She couldn’t stop herself, his blunt and flat ‘no’ startled the question from her lips. Wide-eyed she paused, “I…okay. I refused him because I didn’t like him.”

“He is the tenth, Sofia.”

“I didn’t like /any/ of them. I don’t really see why it matters. This has never affected my work as your apprentice and I doubt it will for a while yet. As you might have caught on I’m not very interested in marrying for position or power.”  
There was a moment where the two stared at each other. Cedric’s heart was beating so hard it was either going to fly from him or he was going to die. Meanwhile, her gaze shifted to the floor and she played with one of her soft waves. Finally he decided to be a bit bold and shoved off the wall. Taking careful steps he approached her he took her chin in his long fingers. Rubbing his thumb along her jaw he slipped his free hand around her waist, pulling her body tight against his. A gasp escaped the princess and both of her hands grabbed at the robe on his chest, tightly pressing a little space between the two. Innocent blue eyes met devilish black and he smirked.

“What kind of marriage /are/ you interested in, Sofia?” 

His voice cut straight through her and she shivered. Something about the gravelly texture rubbed against her and made her delight in how raw and open he was right now. Their lips were so close together she could feel the heat of him there. Not to mention his body pressed against her, his open robe falling around her small frame as he held her tight against his shirt and breeches. Very few times had she seen him in this state of undress and never had she imagined he would be holding her in such a way, late at night, in her rooms. Pink lips parted to answer him, and as soon as they did he pulled her face up into a kiss. Sofia stiffened in his arms as he pressed his mouth to hers. Clearly he was rusty, but not unpracticed entirely, and she could now taste what she recognized as wine. Cedric’s tongue darted into her mouth and she gasped, her back arching her further into him in surprise. There were many nights he had imagined what she would taste, smell, and feel like in his arms. This was better. Her lips were soft against his chapped, soft lavender scent drifted up from her hair, and she was soft and malleable to his touch. Indeed, this is what he had been hoping for yet nervous to wish for. For a moment he wondered if he had gone too far and if he had been wrong. Right when he started considering letting her go, the tight fists on his chest relaxed, her palms relaxing across his chest as she leaned up to press her lips against his again. Cedric moved his hand from her chin to the back of her head, pulling her passionately up against him. Relief mixed with desire filled him, and he let both hands drop to her behind, hoisting her up so he could guide her back towards the bed.

It wasn’t until she fell back onto her plush bed with a ‘pwoof’ that Sofia realized how her face was flushed. Brown curls splayed around her blushing face, and she watched from her position as Cedric tossed his robe to the floor and pulled his shirt over his head. Her breath came out in a quick puff of air as she looked him over. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so muscular,” She sighed softly, reaching for him. While he was no knight, he had sinewy muscles that surprised her. All these years she thought he was a stick under all his robes. Beyond that, she was surprised to see small tattoos on each finger. Immediately she recognized them as runes, and her fingers brushed over them while she pulled him down on top of her. 

A familiar smirk tugged at his lips as he slowly untied her nightgown, “Ah, Princess. You’ve imagined me without my robes? How incredibly improper of you.” He laughed lightly as her blush deepened. His fingers gently traced her collar bone as he brushed the sleeves off her shoulders. “Don’t tell anyone,” He whispered hoarsely, his mouth pressed to her ear, “But I’ve imagined you too, my Sofia. See.” He took her hand in his, and pressed it to the front of his breeches. A gasp from her confirmed that she did understand a bit about anatomy. Holding her hand for only a moment there, she gently stroked at the protrusion, earning a lustful moan from her companion. “Please.”

“Oh, Cedric,” Sofia mumbled, kissing his exposed neck softly, “I think perhaps…” 

Despite her words, her hand continued rubbing against the warm stiffness between them, and he was lost to her touch. His body trembled as she kept up her play and he could hardly hear her between his quiet panting and the blood rushing in his ears. “Princess,” He moaned, grabbing her shoulders with both hands as he pitched forward against her.

A small giggle escaped her as she asked, “Yes?”

“Please, you don’t understand.” His breath was hot on her neck as he tried to gain some semblance of being in control here. Sofia’s hand stilled for only a moment, while she untied the front of his breeches. He let out a little, soft cry of delight and a little pain when she pulled him free of his trousers. It had truly been too long. Perhaps he should have had a go with the scullery maid who was always giving him eyes in the hallways before taking the Princess herself to bed. “You’re going to be my undoing.”  
“Good,” She said sweetly, the hand not wrapped around his cock playing with his hair. “I want to be. I’ve been dreaming about this for ages, Cedric. Why do you think I’ve been staying so late at night lately?”

His breaths came in hot, short bursts. The original plan was to convince her to love him, convince her he was worthy of her. Now it turned out she was aching for him in the same way he was aching for her. Relief and guilt mingled in with his rising need to finish by her hand and he struggled for any kind of rational thought. All he could summon was a strangled growling noise, fighting its way up his throat before exiting between clenched teeth. Sofia chuckled softly, kissing his forehead and renewing her efforts. Strangely he didn’t seem to make a lot of noise but he did, however, grit his teeth a lot. As his breathing grew faster Sofia felt perhaps she was nearing the ‘end’ as it were (that’s how she had heard it described from her married friends). As his short nails dug into her shoulders there was a loud knock on her door. Immediately both froze. Cedric jumped up, panicked. 

“Relax,” She whispered to him, standing up and tying her nightgown closed. Louder she called, “One moment.” After her gown was modest she grabbed a robe and strode confidently towards the door, gesturing to Cedric to get into her large closet. Once he was hidden she pulled the door open. A slightly older man stood in the doorway, tall and regal. Sofia smiled softly at him, “Good evening. Isn’t it a bit late to be checking in on me?”

“Excuse the late calling, Princess. There was a loud noise heard from this wing.” The man looked around her room over her head and seemed satisfied. “I only needed to check on you and Prince James.”

Sofia nodded, “That is the duty of the Royal Steward. Thanks for checking on me. Have a good evening, I will see you tomorrow.” He wished her goodnight and she shut and locked the door. As soon as it was shut she heard Cedric leaving her closet. When she turned to look at him he was hastily righting his clothing and smoothing his hair. 

“I have to go.” 

“Why’s that?” Sofia asked curiously, wrapping her arms and robe around her small frame. “Did he scare you?”

Cedric snorted, “Found in the Princess’s bedchambers in that state? By the new steward? No, not scared at all. I would just much rather be alive than dead.”

“Well. Yes, that makes sense. I can’t imagine anyone would be terribly happy if they caught us in this state in my room…I suppose we could do it while I’m studying magic. I’m up in your tower alone for hours anyway, no one would notice or wonder.” Sofia tapped her pink lips with her finger and Cedric stared.

“What? You want to keep-no. Princess Sofia, this cannot continue. It would be the end of me if we were to be caught. Don’t look at me like that. You know this was doomed from the start. I don’t know why you didn’t shove me out of here to begin with, but now you haven’t, and now we both must suffer. I think it’s best if we end your apprenticeship. Perhaps you should give those Prince’s another shot, Princess. You’ll need to settle down sooner rather than later.” Cedric moved to brush her out of the way, but his Princess had other ideas. As he reached for the door her hands darted out, grabbing his upper arm. 

“Ask for my hand.”

Cedric felt the blood rush out of his face and he turned to her. They stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eon. Finally he shook his head, pried her hands from him, and slipped into the hallway with no other word.


	3. Holt and Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Body Swapping and Seperation fic. This was pretty popular back in the day haha.
> 
> /sobs My poor babies aren't in the reboot yet.
> 
> Also it's "Frankie Fine" in the movies/show. But that's not as fun as "Franken Fine" like FrankenSTEIN get it? I-just enjoy.

“We can’t take it anymore!” 

Frankie started, her book falling from her hands and to the floor. Her dorm room had been flung open, and in the doorway stood a totally normal teenaged boy. Breathing heavily, face flushed, the normie slammed the door behind him as he entered the room. It had been a year or so since Frankie had started at Monster High, a boarding school that specialized in teaching those less normal than her current intruder. The boy was an old friend of hers, one she had met shortly after joining the school. Although most students appeared different on the outside, this boy had a unique sort of problem.

“I’m sorry for intruding on you, Frankie, but we can’t take it! We can’t…can’t do this anymore!” He had both hands in his hair, tugging and mussing up the black and yellow strands into a sort of mad-scientist look. “I can’t do it, I don’t care if HE can.”  
Slowly, Frankie got a grasp of what was going on, and she stood up from her desk, picking her book up while she thought of what to say. After setting the book gently on her desk, she offered the desk chair to him.

Once he was seated, she rubbed his back in a motherly fashion, “Oh Jackson, I know it must be so hard to deal with what you have to deal with. Nobody blames you for anything he does, and vice versa. Even though you’re sort of the same, all of Monster High sees you as separate people. You don’t need to worry if he’s done something to upset you! I’m sure anything he’s done wasn’t on purpose.”

Jackson laid his head on her desk as she stroked his back, looking miserable and angry. Quiet while she talked, he eventually just sighed.

“No…Frankie…he’s setting me up now,” defeated, he turned to her, face twisted in disgust, “He’s…a…/Monster/. And not in the good way! In the-ugh-I hate him! He’ll flirt with girls and-no, worse! He does /worse/! When he’s in control he’ll tear up my homework, destroy my books, write letters to me telling me he doesn’t approve, I don’t…understand. I don’t like sharing my body either but I don’t destroy his stuff! And it’s not like I can avoid music forever so there’s no way to essentially kill him!”  
“Well, maybe he doesn’t mean it as badly as you’re taking it. I think he thinks different things are important. Maybe it hasn’t occurred to him that it matters so much to you about your homework? I bet he’s just…not thinking. You’re the thinker, Jackson. Holt, not so much.” 

Not impressed, Jackson snorted, “I’ll never have a normal life with him. What if a ghoul I want to be with hates him? What-can we have two different girlfriends? I always….” He stopped, looking shy and blushing a bit. Not meeting her eyes he turned away, “I just always imagined I’d get married someday. I just don’t see how I can, with HIM here all the time! I won’t even be able to dance at /my/ wedding because of him!”

Silence permeated the room while Frankie wondered what to say. There had been a time, before, where she was the one doing the go-between for the two personalities held inside the one boy. Well, personalities didn’t really encompass what was actually happening. It was more like two people taking turns existing. They didn’t even really look the same, considering. Beyond that, she had never considered what it would be like for the boys if they didn’t agree on a girl. The last ghoul they’d dated was, well, herself. Everyone had liked each other in that relationship, even Frankie liked both of them. What /would/ happen if they disagreed? Who would win out? Holt could be rude if he chose to be, could he insult Jackson’s choice and make her break up with them? Or what if Holt chose a wild girl and Jackson avoided even…being? Theoretically either boy could stop the other from taking hold, even if Jackson was the default setting. All Holt had to do was make sure he was constantly listening to music, even while sleeping, and Jackson would never be seen again. Easy enough with today’s gadgets. Jackson laid back down on the desk, idly flicking the desk lamp on and off. Frankie sat on the edge of her bed, gently rubbing his back from there while she thought it over.  
Suddenly she hopped to her feet, “Jackson! Remember when we went back in time and I met my Grandpa? When we came back, some of us ended up like you and Holt! Maybe Ghoulia can make you two separate…? It wasn’t /exactly/ the same, but maybe she can figure out how we worked it the first time, without involving that monster.”

“That’s /perfect/!” Jackson cried, leaping up and wrapping her into a hug, “You’re brilliant, Frankie! Let’s go find her now! Come on, this can’t wait!” He grabbed her hand in his, pulling her eagerly from the room. She managed to shut the door behind them as they ran down the hall, the hard thump of his shoes offsetting the metallic clicks of her heels on the tiles. 

“Hey, Jackson, slow down! I’m not sure all of me will be able to keep up!” 

“Oh, I’ve seen you run faster than this!” Jackson laughed, looking over his should at her. In that moment, that split second of not paying attention to where he was running, he slammed into Manny Taur. Now, Manny was quite the large monster, easily twice the size of nearly everyone. Jackson, on the other hand, was less gifted in both height and brawn. Manny watched Jackson hit the floor, pulling Frankie down with him. To be honest, the bump hardly alerted the son of the Minotaur, it was Frankie’s cry of alarm that had done it.

“Geeze-are you two okay?” Manny asked, hoisted Jackson to his feet, and then reached his hand down to Frankie to help her up. 

“Aw, yeah, we were just in a hurry!” Frankie said and giggled a bit, “Guess we should have been paying more attention! Sorry we hit you!”

Manny shrugged, “Hurt you more than me, just watch out next time.” Frankie waved good-bye while Jackson brushed himself off. While they were preoccupied, neither noticed Clawd and Heath nearby, hanging out near Clawd’s locker. If they had noticed, perhaps they could have managed to escape before the music started. As it was, both were occupied with laughter and neither had looked from each other since Manny set them back upon their feet. So when the newest pop sensation blared from the locker, Jackson let out a cry, and Frankie whipped around to see who was the culprit.

The act of being transformed was one of the worst sensations anyone could bear to endure, in Jackson’s mind. Having heard music through only when it was a slower song (fast songs seemed to trigger the change, slow did not, but he had no idea why) the mere opening notes to a pop song sent him into pure agony. It was equal to having been set on fire. Jackson’s skin would start feeling hot, his head would split into the worst headache imaginable, and slowly he’d feel his skin be seared ‘off’. The screams others would hear was not for effect, not because he hated being taken away (he did hate that, too, though), but because it was the worst pain the world. For Holt it was the sweet feeling of freedom. To put it delicately, it felt like when one was holding off on relieving themselves, and then finally reaching that bathroom and that feeling of ‘finally’ swept over one. Pure euphoria. 

Having located the culprits of the sudden catchy tune, Frankie snapped back to Jackson. Or, well, he had already transformed. So she smiled and waited for Holt to figure out what happened.

Jackson’s other personality, Holt, was opposite of him in every way. While Jackson looked like any regular Normie, Holt was a Fire Elemental through and through. His red hair was similar to his cousin Heath’s, and he had a tattoo on one side of his face. While both boys shared the eyebrow piercing, Frankie was certain it was Holt who had it done. And the main thing that was different between them was their attitude, and level of loudness. Prepared for an outburst, Frankie said a pleasant hello.  
Realizing he was ‘released’ from his sort-of prison, he let out a loud scream of ‘yeaaah’ followed by, “Franken Fine!” Holt grinned, and draped his arm across her shoulders, “Why are you hanging out with the loser this time?”

Frankie smiled, rolling her eyes, “Well, actually, it turns out he wants a separation. From you. So we were going to go see If Ghoulia can help you like she helped us ghouls when we got stuck together! We were heading there when…well.” She gestured broadly to Heath and Clawd, who had since been joined by Deuce and were all talking loudly.

Holt glanced over, then nodded, “Makes sense. Well, if the normie loser wants to lose the only cool part about him, I’m alright with that. Why don’t we head down to the catacombs and see what we find, hm?” When Frankie giggled, he leaned in close to her ear, “Maybe we can catch up, since it seems the nerd gets more time with you than I do.” His hand dragged down her upper arm, and she jolted a bit, her bolts sparked as she pulled away.

“Ah, probably not the best idea, Holt. Anyway, we were looking for Ghoulia, specifically, and we weren’t sure where she’d be. If you want to stay out, you might want to turn your own music on.” She pointed at the mp3 player in his pocket before starting to walk down the hall, fully under the impression he’d follow her. Which he did, having turned his music on before moving too far from the other Mansters. Frankie filled him fully in on what he’d missed while Jackson was in control, and they spent the majority of their time looking in empty classrooms for Ghoulia.

It wasn’t until the end of an hour of searching that they found her, sitting on Cleo’s bed while Cleo talked at her about some issue with Toralei. Frankie, excited, clapped her hands, exclaiming before she crossed the room.  
“What are you doing in here?!” Cleo snapped, and then noticed Holt and pointed wildly at him, “And you’re bringing a boy!? Frankie, really-“ Cleo’s distress was lost as nobody heard her as Frankie explained her plan to Ghoulia.   
“I think that should work,” Ghoulia groaned, “I did create a machine in case anything like that happens again-I have a lot of machines built due to the unrelenting chaos this school attracts. So I suppose it should work, but it’s a risk. We will not know the outcome until it happens.”*

Together the three left Cleo (angry) in her room alone and headed down to the catacombs. At some point, in the dark, Frankie had felt Holt reach out for her hand. After she hesitated for a moment, she reached for his, and they laced their fingers together as they walked. It was nice, to be wanted and liked by Holt. It was also nice to be wanted and liked by Jackson. Once they became two people instead of one she couldn’t be sure what would happen. The reason they hadn’t worked was because the two boys hated each other so much, and she doubted they’d let her see both. The ultimatum she’d given them wouldn’t be a reason anymore.   
“There it is,” Ghoulia moaned, lazily pointing at the laboratory’s entrance, “Shall we?”*

While the couple followed the zombie as she shuffled into the lab, Frankie looked concerned. 

“Hey, Holt…what if something goes wrong? Ghoulia said it could be dangerous and I don’t want something happening to you—either of you.”

“Thanks for the concern, Franken Fine, but I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about! Ghoulia here’s pretty smart, she’ll figure it out, and anyway…Jackson’s right.” Holt sighed, and dropped Frankie’s hand to rub at his neck. “We’re tearing each other apart. Maybe more so me than him. Not my fault though! How come HE gets to be the standard? Why do I have to revert to /that/! This whole situation is so unfair. Mom’s no help either, says we’ll get used to it. Only ghoul we can agree on is you, too, and he ruined that.”

“Nothing is ruined,” Frankie said cautiously, “We’re on hold, remember, because /both/ of you couldn’t leave me out of it.”

“Well now we’ll be separate. It’ll be worth it, whatever the outcome. Then you can be /my/ ghoul, mine alone. Not sharing something will be nice, for once.” Holt frowned, an expression Frankie wasn’t used to seeing, but it didn’t change her feelings. She liked both Holt /and/ Jackson, she doubted them being separated would help her choose. 

Once in the lab, Frankie stood to the side while Ghoulia explained the “procedure” to Holt, who seemed to be zoned out. Once the machine was up and running, Ghoulia asked Holt to stand on an X on the floor.  
So he did, winking at Frankie and saying a quick, “See you when I’m my own man, babe!”

Once he was positioned, Ghoulia was focused, timing her watch, pulling levers, whatever it was she did. Sciencey things, Frankie assumed, watching Holt expectantly. It did not take longer than a moment for him to start to…warp. There wasn’t another way to explain it, he seemed to shimmer and fizzle, like bad reception, and her eyes widened as Holt (who never seemed to suffer from changing) screamed, seemingly trying to form words. All that came out was garbled noises, and Ghoulia shook her head sadly.  
“I cannot stop now, I warned you,” Ghoulia groaned, “If I stop it will be worse.”*

Holt continued to warp until there were two heads, Jackson and Holt, on one body. Then there were four arms, and Jackson seemed to be shoving, or pulling rather, himself out of Holt’s body, determination across his face. Holt was still trying to talk, and Frankie had closed her eyes and covered her ears. Soon there was silence, and then Ghoulia letting out happy groans of approval. A hand touched Frankie’s shoulder and she jumped.

“Jackson!” She said, amazed, then glanced over the normie’s shoulder to see Holt talking to Ghoulia. Their voices were low, but Frankie wasn’t focused. “Oh, it worked, and you’re okay!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a hug. Jackson was stiff under her hug, and hadn’t noticed.

“Wait, babe, what did you say?” Jackson asked, pushing Frankie away gently, “Did you just…call me Jackson?”

Confused, Frankie nodded, “Yeah, that’s who you are…? See, look, Holt’s over there.” She gestured, smiled, and added, “You’re your own person now, Jackson! How wonderful!”

Holt and Jackson both seemed to hear her explanation, as they both turned to gape at each other. Jackson reacted first, letting out a loud screech, and pulled at his sweater vest. Holt looked at his hands, silent. Both ghouls watched in silence as well, and after a mutual glance they concluded neither had any idea.

“You did this!” Holt finally snapped, “This is YOUR fault! Of course I’d end up in this-this MESS.” His voice was rising as he crossed the room, and got right in Jackson’s face, “I’m the default, you stupid rock junkie! If you’d thought before you did anything you’d have figured the default mind would go into the body that was presented!”

“What!” Jackson shouted, his eyes narrowed dangerously, “You think /I/ want your stupid nerd body?! You’re the lamest thing on this planet, Jackson, I certainly didn’t do this on purpose! Why would I assume anything when nobody’s split anyone like us before?! Your logic is flawed, o’ intelligent one!”

“You’re a monster!” Holt screeched, and shoved Jackson. Jackson ran back at him, and shoved him harder. Holt’s body was stronger, for some reason, and he snorted as the shove made him take a step back.

“Guess who’s the Manster now, normie buddy?! Look in a damn mirror! It’s you! We’re ruined! I’ve got to look like /this/ and you get to be cool?! How is this fair at all!”

“Well-“ Holt growled, “At least you’ll get Frankie. We both know she prefers her men looking intelligent.”

“Um-“ Frankie interjected, attracting both boys attention right as they grabbed each other’s clothing to start fighting physically, “So a couple of notes. One: At least you’re separate right? You’ve got your own bodies even if they are each other’s. And two: I don’t prefer any type and this certainly isn’t a time for me to choose which of you I’m going to date. So why don’t you cross that off whatever stress you’re thinking about, okay? This is messier than being your go-between right now. Now…maybe this is actually a good thing! See now you get to be in each other’s shoes!”

“Yeah great,” Holt’s body said, “Except all he’s gonna do is wreck my grades and make my life miserable before we can switch back. We all know only one of us behaves and follows any kind of moral guideline. And that’s me.”

“I think you mean only one of us is boring. So yeah, that’s only you,” Jackson’s body growled. “How blind are you anyway? Can I take these off? They’re /awful/. They’re the worst part of your whole…ugh. I can’t even begin to fix the normie nerdiness of this…/ensemble/.”

“You’ve got a tattoo on your /face/, Holt, why don’t you leave my sweater vest alone. Anyway, yeah, you need the glasses. Mom sent me contacts, but I wasn’t sure how that would deal with the switch. Probably wouldn’t have done much, but I dunno. Contacts never felt like my thing.”

“Cool, they are now. These glasses are lame,” Jackson removed the glasses, squinting to see, before groaning and putting them back on his face. “Ghoulia, sweetheart, when can we fix this?”

“Let’s set some rules first,” Ghoulia moaned, “No one will refer to me as anything other than Ghoulia. I’m not your sweetheart, Holt. Also let us refer to you as your mind, not your body. As in, even though Jackson is in Holt’s body, he will be called ‘Jackson’. Your body does not dictate who you are, so that is a no-brainer.” She laughed raspily, “Anyway. The machine needs to charge to separate again…and I actually don’t have one to put people back together again. You think I would, but that particular challenge had not hit this school until today. Who knows when I will be able to get it put together? Until then…I think only we should know about this. Try not to be seen together. Stay in each other’s rooms, classes, and try to behave like the other would. We don’t need Headmistress catching wind of this and getting this whole thing shut down before I can do what you’d like me to do. Alright?”

“Whatever you say, ba-Ghoulia,” Holt said, having corrected his slip.

“Okay, Ghoulia, but I’m not so sure I can be brass and demeaning to women,” Jackson glared at Holt, “Why couldn’t you be less…/you/ and more /me/?! I still don’t understand how we shared a body in the first place.”

“Opposites attract, Jackie-boy. Anyway, let’s go up. I’ll take Franken Fine and you hang with Ghoulia,” Holt reached for Frankie, but Jackson laughed.

“Yeah right. What would you have to say to Ghoulia? She’s too smart for you. However, you’re good with ladies. So I’ll take /Frankie/-not Franken Fine-and you get Ghoulia. We have lots of science to talk about. Enjoy.”   
Frankie led Jackson-in-Holt’s-body up the stairs out of the catacombs, giving him pointers on being louder and more flirty. Ghoulia and Holt waited in the lab for a good distance to be given to them. Ghoulia started writing equations while Holt idly scuffed around the room. 

No doubt this would be a tricky situation for everyone involved.

 

 

Jackson and Frankie made their way up the stairs in silence. The amount of anger coursing through Jackson’s veins had never been matched before in his life. He stared at his hands while they walked, a sneer across his face. Frankie, wisely, stayed quiet until he spoke first.

“I just don’t understand why anyone thought it would work out well,” Jackson grumbled, “Now I’m stuck in this…blue…ugh. I’ve never /seen/ myself /as/ Holt, we just kind of shared a body. I’m going to have to stay like this for…for who knows how long and /worse/ I’ve got to act like him! It’s all his stupid fault. If he had let me be in control we’d be separate and we’d never have to talk again!”

Frankie was quiet while Jackson ranted, but eventually she said, “You’d still be brothers, Jackson. You’re never going to get /rid/ of Holt. You’ll have to live with him one way or another. So maybe it’s not that bad. Yeah, you look like Holt right now, but he also looks like you. So you’ll see how it is to be him, I guess, and you’ll have a good time acting kind of wild, right? It’ll be fun! You’ve got to look on the bright side, Jackson! Everything will circle around, don’t worry so much.” She ended her spirit-rallying speech with a gentle shove and smiled at him.

Jackson groaned, “I guess, Frankie, but isn’t it going to be silly…? You and I both know I’m /Jackson/. So acting like Holt is totally unnatural not to mention I haven’t even really /seen/ Holt in action. I don’t even know where to begin.”  
“Okay! Well, first of all, you’ve got to be super confident! Holt is always confident in himself. Also he’s supposed to be DJing Cleo’s party tomorrow night. How much do you know about music?”

“Frankie,” Jackson said seriously, “I have literally never heard a pop song in my life. I /cannot/ DJ a party.”

There was a moment where all that was heard was her heels and his stomps on the stairs before she took his hand in hers, stopping them on the stairs suddenly.

“Look, Jackson-We’re going to make this work, okay? I’ll help you. Come to my dorm room after lights-out, just sneak, you’ll be fine. Actually, no…just come up with me! Holt can go to your room, since you’d both be in there normally anyway, so it won’t be suspicious at all! You can stay the night in my room, and I’ll show you the most popular pop songs for this week! It’ll be totally voltageous!”

“I-uh-what?” Jackson was surprised, she had invited him to her room for the night, alone? To teach him vital information that stupid Holt should just have /access/ to. And it wasn’t like Jackson’s body could be the dj, because the music should turn him into Holt’s body. But a creepover? “I um…maybe it’s just…are you sure you want me to stay the night in your room? A-alone?”

“How else are you going to learn about pop music? You can’t ask any of the ghouls or mansters cause they’ll know something’s up. Oh, you’ve got to keep your headphones blaring music, too, or you’ll look suspicious.” Frankie reached into his front pocket, pulling out his mp3 and pressed ‘play’. A popular new hit by Casta Fierce filled the small stairwell. “This one’s my favorite!”

Jackson was stiff, all muscles tense, cheeks bright red, “Okay, Frankie, some rules. If we’re spending the night together, you can’t…I mean, the music’s fine but please don’t reach into my pockets from now on, okay?” Soon he was distracted by the song though, looking at the wall somewhere above Frankie’s head while he listened quietly to this new sound. Never in his life had he heard a pop song before now, and it was totally different than what he was used to. Frankie watched him, holding his mp3 player while he stared vacantly at the wall.

“He got this…? I got stuck with…with blues and jazz and he got /fun/?” Jackson asked, eyes glassed over, “This isn’t fair. He got /fun/. He got…the better deal! This whole time I thought /I/ was better off. I got to be the dominant personality, I could avoid music, I could do well in school, I’m polite, I’m nice…but this whole time he got to be everything I’m not. Popular, fun, loud. It’s unfair! I got stuck with Mozart and he gets…who is this? What is this?”  
Frankie looked down at the mp3 player, “Um, Casta Fierce. She’s a famous singer-“

“I know her. I hear her names in the halls. I hear the other mansters talking about her, I’ve seen her face, I’ve watched my friends buy tickets for her! And I can’t partake, because /I/ don’t get to enjoy those things! This whole time! Nobody…will ever understand what it’s like, to have half your life taken from you.” There was a pregnant pause, where Frankie was holding one of Jackson’s hands in hers, and his mp3 in the other, and both were looking at each other. Jackson looked angry, desperate, and his eyes were watering up something fierce. Frankie was quiet and understanding, she couldn’t imagine sharing half her life, missing out on parties and concerts and fun with her friends. Jackson’s head whipped away and he angrily wiped his eyes, letting out a choked laugh. Frankie rubbed his hand with her thumb, looking concerned.

“I forgot I wasn’t wearing glasses. He even gets better vision than me. Ridiculous.”

“I’m so sorry, Jackson. I can’t imagine, you’re right. But…you’re free now. You’re only what, seventeen? You’ve got your whole life in front of you, you’re separate now. You can listen to these songs, go to concerts, make friends, find your own ghoul, all those things you want! You can be /you/, Jackson, you’ve got that power now.”

Silence enveloped them, and finally Jackson sighed. He nodded somberly before he started back up the stairs. They reached the door that led to the rest of the school in silence, and Frankie stopped him before he could open the door.   
“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, surprised. He looked back at her, pulling his hand away from the handle.

“Loud, confident, and /I/ am Franken Fine. Not Frankie, okay? Franken Fine, no matter what, even if it sounds or feels stupid. That’s who I am. You can do this, Jackson. I’m also gonna call you Holt while ‘on stage’, if you will. Okay? You can do it. Just be as obnoxious as you can. Worse than Heath,” Frankie giggled, leaning up to kiss Jackson’s cheek, “You can do it, ‘kay? I have confidence in you.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” Jackson said, smiling warmly at her. She looked sternly at him and he groaned, “Thanks, Franken Fine. Happy?”

“Yep! Let’s go, Holt, and don’t forget to flirt with me. A lot.” She giggled again, rolling her eyes at her memories of Holt being obnoxious with her. Jackson sort of winced, not confident he could do this at all. But she opened the door before he could articulate his desperation into words, and they were soon out in the hallway. No one seemed to notice them, because they didn’t stand out, and Jackson started to relax.

“Frankie! Holt!” 

Both of them turned in unison, searching for the voice that called to them. Frankie saw him first, while Jackson’s stomach dropped to his feet. Oh god, someone who might see through him was heading right their way.   
“Hey Heath!” Frankie said cheerily, “Holt and I were just listening to Casta’s new song! It’s totes voltageous!”

“Ha-yeah it’s pretty sweet,” Heath laughed, “Are you guys pumped for Cleo’s party tomorrow?! It’s gonna be off the chain! I know you’ll be in charge of DJ, Holt, and I don’t mean to offend but I know I’ll be the hottest one there. Those ladies won’t stand a chance. Heath Burns: Master of Heatin’ up the ladies!” 

Jackson looked, panicked, at Frankie for some kind of cue. Frankie laughed and rolled her eyes at Heath, patting his shoulder.

“Oh Heath, don’t you have a ghoul you’re working on warming up? You’ve almost worked through that first and thickets layer of ice, don’t give up now.”

Heath wilted, frowning, “Yeah but every time she gets away from me she freezes back up. I can only melt so much of her in one sitting or she gets annoyed. I just can’t seem to get her warmed up enough to me. So I guess I’ll find a different ghoul. There’s lots in school…” Heath smiled suddenly, putting his hand next to her head on the wall, leaning in closely, “If you’re not busy, maybe you and I can heat things up later?” 

Startled, Frankie took a step back, and just laughed, opening her mouth to say something. Right as she was about to retort, Heath was pulled back rather suddenly by the scruff of his neck. Jackson was frowning and looking annoyed indeed, which probably prompted the sudden reaction.

“Heath,” Jackson snapped, “You won’t make it to the party if you don’t leave my ghoul alone.”

“I don’t remember her being /your/ ghoul, Holt, I was pretty sure if she was anyone’s ghoul it was that weird unicorn kid,” Heath grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.

“Unicorn kid? What, Neighthan?” Jackson looked surprised, but Frankie cleared her throat, and he turned to look at her before adding, “Fine, she’s not /my/ ghoul, but I’m not going around flirting with Abbey, am I? Not cool, dude.”  
Rolling his eyes, Heath said, “Give Abbey a try. By all means. If /I/ can’t get her warmed up, some lukewarm fire elemental sure won’t.”

“Excuse me?!” Jackson snapped, “I…I am as much of fire manster as you are!! I can also set innocent people on fire! I’m just…just as good at the ladies as /you/ are! No-better! Cause I’m /way/ hotter than you!”  
Frankie let out a little groan, smacking her face with her hand and shaking it dismally while Holt’s body stared down Heath, who was mainly looking confused. After a moment of heated silence, Heath shrugged.  
“Relax man, no need to reach your boiling point. 

“No need to reach your boiling point, Holt. Relax man, I was only kidding around.” Heath held his hands up in defeat, “You need to cool down before you set something on fire. Frankie, keep an eye on him, he’s acting real weird. Anyway, catch ya later. Guess I /will/ try my hand at melting her down before asking her to the party. What’s the worst that could happen!”

Frankie waved good-bye as Heath chased down the hall, and she watched him close the distance between him and their favorite yeti. After he was out of ear shot, Frankie took Jackson’s hand in hers, pulling him down the hall towards the dorm rooms.  
“Class is almost over, anyway, and we need to get away from here so Holt and Ghoulia can come up. We’ll keep you in my room for a while, until you can get the hang of being more Holt and less Jackson. I’ll coach you! Holt leaves me plenty of video messages if I don’t answer my icoffin for him!” Frankie chattered cheerily, “That wasn’t as bad as it could have been, luckily for us Heath is clueless and easily distracted.”

Jackson followed quietly, letting Frankie lead him, only half-listening to her chatter. Holt’s body was much stronger than his own, he had felt the power in his arm when he pulled Heath back. What made that so, and why did Holt get all the cool stuff? No wonder people liked him better. Nothing poor Jackson could do could measure up to mixing really upbeat, fun, contemporary music. He didn’t have a choice but to be a ‘nerd’ as people said, when he couldn’t even go to parties or movies or the mall, for crying out loud. The quiet between Frankie and him seemed strange, but maybe he was imagining it. He watched the back of her head while she led him away from the main area of the school and up towards the girls dorms. Boys were allowed up during the day time, but not at night. There /were/ people who patrolled, and since it was close to curfew (sorta) they’d probably check Jackson and Holt’s room to make sure he was in there, since he’d be last seen heading up to Frankie’s room. And Jackson’s body /would/ be in his room, so. But Jackson felt strange about this idea of staying the night in her room and learning about music and her basically filling him in on a million things he didn’t get to experience. There was a suspicion rising in him that she preferred Holt’s body, at least, to his own. The more he thought about it the more sense it made, why she didn’t mind how outrageous Holt was, why she hung out with him, almost seemed to prefer him (well, everyone did, but whatever). Now that he understood how much stronger and cooler Holt /really/ was, how easy it was to relate to other people now, he understood why she’d like Holt more. Although he understood it, it still didn’t sit right.

Frankie’s dorm room was very neat. Everything seemed to have a place. A small bookcase doubled as her nightstand, a small vanity sat against one wall, nestled next to a small wardrobe, and a desk took up half of another wall. Her walls were splayed with posters of movies or bands she enjoyed, and pictures of her friends at monster high. Everything screamed ‘Frankie’, really, and Jackson took a moment to look around more thoroughly than he had the previous times he’d been there. Frankie shoved him in first, looked around the hall, then went in and shut the door, locking it before turning back around, her back against her closed door.

Jackson was kneeling in front of her bookcase, looking at her selection curiously, amused by her amount of teen magazines mixed in with her classical literature. When she cleared her throat, he looked over her shoulder at her. If there was one thing that made Frankie weak in the knees, it was how pretty Holt’s eyes were: they were orange and seemed to flicker in the cool of his blue skin. Now he was kind of the best of both, although she did like Holt’s personality, Jackson’s quiet and sweet demeanor was easier to predict. After a long, quiet moment of gazing into each other’s eyes, Frankie looked away, blushing lightly. She pushed off the door, took her heels off and set them to the side of the door, on a little rack that held a few other of her ‘standard’ pairs. After a moment of looking at them, her desk, a poster, the vanity, at anywhere but Jackson, she moved to her desk and shuffled through a drawer. Finally she came out with a little mp3 player and some headphone splitters, taking her own pair of headphones too. Then she moved to Jackson’s side, kneeling next to him and setting it up so they could listen from the same device. When she begun to act strange, Jackson had turned fully, to watch her. There was no reason, as far as he could tell, that she should be nervous around him. They both liked each other, unless she’d changed her mind (although she’d told them earlier it was still on the table) and there wasn’t much to hide. It was hard, he noticed, to remind himself that he was in Holt’s body. He didn’t really feel much different, other than the strength thing, and especially just sitting on her floor, he didn’t feel different. Jackson felt like Jackson, on the inside, his outside appearance didn’t factor in a lot, but he supposed the music should remind him…it sounded so good, he decided it was more like finding a new band he liked than just…being totally different. 

“Alright, we’re going to start with the most popular songs right now. We’ve got a lot to cover and not a lot of time to do it in, okay, Jackson?” Frankie said seriously, leaning in and pulling his headphones over his ears. She smiled kindly when he winced, and pointed out the volume adjuster on the wire of his headphones. “Adjustable. Holt keeps them loud so he doesn’t turn back into you. The batteries always die, though, so you always come back, eventually. Anyway, are you ready?”

They listened to music for a very long time, Frankie starting with the current favorites, moving on to crowd pleasers, telling him /her/ favorites, mentioning Holt’s favorites, mentioning lots of things. She knew so much, about everything. There were songs that had group dances, dances everyone knew, and there were songs that everyone knew the words to. There were songs that were favorites despite a groan that would elicit when it first came on. The longer they sat together, the more she filled him in, the more he understood why he had such a hard time with making friends. This was all crucial to the social scene. 

A few hours into their lessons, Jackson sighed. Frankie stopped, concerned. After a moment of silence, Frankie’s hand covered Jackson’s blue one.

“Is it too much? Too much information at once?” Frankie asked softly, looking at him seriously, concern and kindness reflecting in her eyes. Jackson bit at his lip, tapping his fingers on his thigh. Silence seemed to be the most popular thing that day, as it settled over the two again as he stared at her hand on his. Finally, he grabbed her hand and pulled her against him.

“Hey-“ Frankie exclaimed, but her words were swallowed when he kissed her. They-meaning her and Jackson /or/ Holt-had never really kissed before. Not quite like this, and she found she liked it. His free hand pulled her face to his, his fingers tightening in her hair, and there was a quiet desperation in his kiss. Eventually it broke, and Frankie looked up at him, awkwardly pulled into his lap, her mismatched eyes meeting his flaming ones. Her cheeks were pinker than his were, but he was pink anyway.  
“I-“ Jackson began, but Frankie spoke at the same time.

“Holt-“ Frankie began, then looked more embarrassed and said, “I mean /Jackson/, you can’t just go around kissing people. We’ve got to-to focus. We’ve got to focus on our-on the party, okay? Can’t just kiss me like it’s not a big deal. That was our first and it’s not even you-you’re Holt. You look like him, I mean, so my first real kiss with either of you was-“

“With both of us. We both got it, even if I’ll remember it and he won’t. But that’s okay, cause I’m going to go out on a limb and say he probably sees more of you than I do. I don’t like It, but I’m understanding it now. He’s cooler and more popular than I am because he gets to do popular things. Everything popular has all this…hiphop stuff in it. I can’t be myself around that. So I get it, despite hating it. You like to fit in, Frankie, of course you’d like Holt better.”

“I don’t like Holt better, Jackson, I like you /both/,” Frankie said, sounding quite strict. Serious-faced she added, “I don’t understand why you can’t understand it. You liked that normie girl, remember? Did that stop you from liking me? No, right? You can like more than one person. I like you both.”

“But you prefer him, he fits in. And even if you don’t like his /personality/ better, I’ve never seen you look at my body the way you look at this one.”

“It’s, um, well…do you want to watch a movie?” Frankie asked, “We can watch a musical, won’t that be fun?”

Jackson nodded, but didn’t say much. Ignoring the subject was just her nice way of agreeing. Apparently her thing was skin the color of popular primary colors. Silently he watched her dig through her wardrobe, thinking about how unfair his life seemed now. Somehow he doubted he could be anything /but/ nuts for Frankie, but her favorite was…this. Frowning, he shuffled out of his jacket, draping it over her desk chair. Shoes next, he placed them by the side of her desk, near her own, and when Frankie turned back around, Jackson was sitting in a t-shirt without shoes, without Holt’s headphones, and she 

dropped her dvd. His arms were well-defined, and she could see now without the jacket how strong his body looked, and she wanted to touch it very badly.

Breathily she said, “I have-is it-can we do something else, instead?”

“What do you mean? What would we do? I guess it would be efficient to set my sleeping space up first, so we can watch the movie from our beds, and knock out after.” Jackson tapped his chin, looking around for extra blankets. There was a brush of something on his arm (hair?) and he turned around to see Frankie kneeled between his spread legs. He had one leg straight on the ground, the other pulled up so his elbow could lean on it, very casually. Perhaps the casual and laid-back nature was also in the muscles-for he seemed to even walk different. In the morning he’d discuss his findings with Holt and Ghoulia, to see if it was similar or If maybe he was opening up to the idea of being stupid and obnoxious. For now, he was surprised, and opened his mouth to ask Frankie if she was okay, when she was on him quite suddenly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly on his mouth, leaning into him. For a moment he didn’t respond, he was so surprised, but it was only a moment. Both of his arms wrapped around her, brushing her hair out of her face, pulling her tight against him. They could both feel the strength Holt’s body had to offer, Jackson in how delicate he had to try to be to not harm her, and Frankie because her hands were brushing his muscles. Jackson didn’t know why-although he had a hunch-she’d changed her mind, but he certainly didn’t mind.

Frankie’s kisses turned from sweet to hungry the more they kissed, her hands traveled up his arms into his t-shirts sleeves, until she eventually stopped and sat back on her heels. Jackson looked surprised that she stopped, but she only seemed to be thinking, her gaze focused on her bookcase. Jackson waited silently, confused, but eventually she leaned in, kissed him on his mouth, and then his neck. Startled, he jumped under her kiss, and his nails dug into her rug as she kissed him delicately down his neck. When she pulled away again, his cheeks were flushed and he was breathing shallowly. 

Concerned immediately she asked, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I spark? I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“N-no, you didn’t /hurt/ me,” Jackson mumbled, stiff from her affection, “It’s just that this is a lot of new stuff for me, uh, as Jackson, and I just don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Hey, me too,” Frankie said encouragingly, “Why do you think I stopped? I was trying to remember the tips from my magazines!” She laughed lightly, then blushed, “Do you think you can lose your shirt?”

Jackson’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head in a quick ‘no’, gasping out a, “/What/?! We’re supposed to be-to be teaching me about music! Not…whatever-I can’t-I’m not /him/, you know, I’m still Jackson, if you want his body you need to wait until he’s got it back-it’s not my own body to do what I want with. I just don’t see you wanting to do this with me. You’ve already called me his name.”

“Well, you do /look/ like him, right now. It’s not his body I want, I don’t think. But he does look nice. His colors are so /dynamic/. Your eyes look like embers, Jackson, they’re beautiful.”

“No, Frankie,” Jackson sighed, gently pushing her off, “/Holt’s/ eyes look like embers. /My/ eyes are gray. The color of steel, or a rainy day. Not embers. If you want embers, you don’t want me, you want Holt. So let’s wait until this is sorted out.”  
There was a long silence, where Frankie sat quietly and awkwardly in front of him, picking at the carpet. She wouldn’t look up at him, even when he coughed to get her attention. He felt a little bad. Never did he think he’d hurt her feelings or something-wait, maybe she was worried she’d make him mad or bitter or something.

“You know I won’t be mad?” Jackson said softly, touching her shoulder. Holt’s voice was naturally loud, so his ‘gentle’ tone was regular speaking level, which wasn’t very reassuring, “I just want you to be happy, Frankie. If…well, if Holt does that, that’s who I want you to be with. It’s okay with me, we can still be friends, alright? We can always be friends.”

Frankie sighed and said, “I don’t know who will make me happy, Jackson. It’s so hard to choose. You’re very sweet, though, for being reassuring. Thank you for understanding.” She kissed his cheek, sweetly. “Now, let’s watch this movie and we’ll meet up with Holt and Ghoulia tomorrow. I’ll send them a text on their icoffins and let them know.”

“Hey, can we send Holt a selfie of us?” Jackson asked, perking up. Once Frankie agreed, they did, captioning it ‘creepover with musicals! See you in the morning!’ After both Ghoulia and Holt were aware they were going to be meeting up the next morning before classes, they made Jackson a comfy bed on the floor and watched ‘Howling in the Rain’ before crashing. 

\---------------------------------------------

Across the school, Holt was sitting in his and Jackson’s room, throwing a ball at the wall while listening to Jackson’s playlist. No wonder the kid was so high-strung, his music was boring! Could he hear what songs turned him? Or was it garbled? Was the pain that Holt had felt in splitting felt every time by Jackson when he turned into Holt? He had so many questions. Actually talking, face-to-face, would be much faster than notes or texts while one was in charge. Holt browsed through Jackson’s movies, noticing most were documentaries or old, silent films. The kid couldn’t even watch good films. Man, well, at least he knew why he was such a /nerd/. Seemed to Holt that Jackson didn’t really have a choice. Well, sucks to be him, wasn’t Holt’s problem. Unless they had to go back together and somehow this switch remained permanent? Would Holt’s personality be the ‘dominant’ one, but in Jackson’s body, then? That was simply not allowed to happen. A life without his music was not a life worth living-not to mention Jackson’s body was terribly boring and his voice was painfully soft.

It was after curfew when he heard his phone buzz, and he looked at the text from Frankie which read something like: “Meet in the catacombs half hour before first class!”. There was an image attached, which he downloaded, and immediately was irritated. /His/ arm was wrapped around Frankie’s shoulder, and Holt’s own face was cheek-to-cheek with Frankie’s, smiling quite devilishly into the camera. Snorting in irritation, Holt threw his phone onto his bed, crossing his arms. His /body/ got to enjoy spending the night in Frankie’s room, and from the look of the picture they were having a good time. There had been text below the picture, but he didn’t care. If Jackson wanted to rub it in his face that he got to spend the night with Frankie…well fine. But while he was in Jackson’s body he was going to wreak havoc. He’d pick a girl and flirt with her-someone Jackson would never get along with. It would be glorious. Revenge was best served when one knew it would come to fruition, after all!


	4. Trolls- Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just didn't feel comfortable writing the Snack Pack. I feel they need more screentime or time in the two books I bought before I can write them all. I do like some of them.
> 
> Anyway, parties are hard to write and I won't be finishing this anytime soon.

Dusk was Poppy’s favorite time of the day. The way the sky darkened so that their pods could light up and create a rainbow of colors was just so pretty to her. It was no surprise then that she preferred to throw parties in the late evening so their lights could shine and sparkled through the darkness. When Branch had received this new invitation (the first since moving to Bergentown) he had assumed it would be some kind of crazy rave dance party-after all, they hadn’t had one in so long and it was hard to imagine Poppy holding off much longer. However, when he opened the blue glitter invite he was surprised to see that it said “A small gathering of friends-new and old!” in bright letters across the base. Small was the key word as although he had opened up a lot since their adventure he wasn’t quite ready to be hitting the dance floor again. It seemed to be an almost-overnighter and it asked everyone to bring something to snack on or games to play. Well, Branch had no games. There wasn’t a lot of games one could play on their own in the seclusion of their underground bunker.

Snacks, though, snacks he could do. The entirety of his day was devoted to cooking his favorite snack foods and preparing them for the haul up from his base home to the top where Poppy lived. Before long he had accumulated five or so dishes which he bundled into make-shift leaf bundles. Surely Poppy would have bowls for him to dump all the snacks into. When the sun dipped below the skyline and set the clouds on fire he pulled his pack over his shoulders and headed up. The staircase leading to the royal chambers was luckily right beside his home. It was also lucky that Poppy’s pod was the first Royal room that he would hit going up the main staircase. An entirely amazing coincidence since he was allowed to dig out his own house. Really, just a coincidence. One that the entire Snack Pack and a certain Queen had noticed almost immediately. Poppy’s pod was located out in the farthest branches, but she had her own branch that he could take there. Apparently he was the last one to arrive as he didn’t see anyone else on his short hike and when he knocked there was plenty of music coming from her pod.

Poppy herself flung the door to the pod open, smiling brightly. Smiling back, he stepped inside when she stepped excitedly to the side. Everyone cried out when they saw who it was and they all greeted him in unison.

“Branch!” Poppy said cheerfully, “I’m so glad you made it!”

“Uh, yeah, thanks for the invite.” Branch looked unsure but after a moment he shrugged off his backpack, “I brought up snacks, like you asked.”

Poppy took his hand and pulled him over to her kitchen, gesturing for him to unpack his bag while she pulled out brightly colored bowls for him. “I didn’t expect you to bring much since you lived alone so long.” When she turned back around to help him dump the snacks into their new bowls she let out a little gasp. Each leaf he unpacked held a new fun type of snack. There were five in total: Rice Krispy treats coated in a variety of toppings, a variety of cookies, some kind of chocolatey cereal mess, Marshmallows dipped in chocolate, and a bunch of cupcakes in ice cream cones.

“I didn’t really know what you guys likes, so I just made my favorites.”

Slowly Poppy turned to look at him. Branch was carefully placing the cupcakes onto a plate she had procured and didn’t seem to notice the fervent stare she had affixed him with. There was no way she had ever even considered that Branch liked to bake or make snacks or do anything that he was clearly pretty fond of. Since moving to Bergentown she had noticed there were a lot of things he did that surprised her but baking was right up there with keeping-every-invitation-she’d-ever-made-him in shock value. Eventually he did have to notice her staring and he stopped setting up the plate to look at her.

“You okay, Poppy?”

“You bake?” Poppy asked dumbly, trying to regain her composure. “I mean, you made all of this?”

“Yes, of course. Who else is going to cook for me while I’m hiding in my safe bunker?” Branch rolled his eyes, turning from her to dump the rest of the cookies into a bowl. “I’m really glad nothing bad has happened to you, Poppy, you don’t seem to think things through all the way.”

Poppy laughed, swatting his arm, “Yeah, and you love it. I can’t wait till the gang sees this! I don’t think they’d believe me about half the stuff that happens with you. All these years distancing yourself…and this whole time you baked like a master!” She popped one of his cookies into her mouth, smiling with her mouth closed before hauling two bowls into her arms and skipping into the main room of the pod. Branch, amused, picked up the rest and followed her. 

The room was set up for a party, the couches pressed against the walls, a table close to them, with plenty of floor space for dancing. Poppy’s new guitar rested against the arm of the couch and several of the other guests were setting up what seemed to be a karaoke system. Even for a small party it seemed that Branch was going to be pressing at the edges of his comfort zone for the next few hours. Biggie and Suki were sitting on one couch, trying to direct the others as to how to set the system up when Poppy gleefully held out the bowls to them. Exclaiming in excitement, each selected a treat and bit in.

“Fantastic!” Biggie cried, his mouth full of cupcake.

“Very good job, Poppy!” Suki agreed, finishing her cookie off.

“Thanks but actually!” Poppy grinned widely at Branch, who quirked an eyebrow, “Branch made them!”

The silence was sudden and deafening. When Branch glanced to see if the others had heard, they had dropped what they were doing to come and look over his goods. He held the bowls and plate out for them. After everyone had picked their treat and sampled it, they exchanged glances.

“You bake?” 

Smidge broke the silence first and Branch only nodded, confused by the response. If it wasn’t any good they could just say so. Yet, well, Suki and Biggie had complimented Poppy? He really didn’t know what was going on.

“And you decorated these?” Suki clarified, “Poppy didn’t help?”

“I had nothing to do with it guys, it was all Branch!” Poppy’s grin was so big Branch was certain it would swallow her face. Oh. He got it now. With knowledge came embarrassment, and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks against his best wishes. He set the bowls down to cross his arms, frowning at her.

“Ha ha. I know what colors /are/, guys.” Branch rolled his eyes, turning his face from Poppy’s smile.

The clatter of her setting everything down quickly alarmed him, but he didn’t look up. A moment later he felt her arms wrapping around him, her cheek pressing against his. Immediately there was a chorus from the others about how lovely the snacks were, how thoughtful, how wonderfully made and tasty they were. A few started to sing some song he wasn’t entirely familiar with and that he was pretty certain wasn’t terribly related to an /actual/ candy man but whatever, they were singing and dancing to it now. Poppy nuzzled her cheek against his, squeezing him gently.

“Aw, it’s only good fun,” Poppy whispered, “That’s what friends do, gently tease!”

“Why have any friends then?” Branch’s tone was flat but she only laughed lightly.

“Because they’re there for you! Even if something goes wrong. Nobody was mad when I almost got everyone eaten because we tried to save…well, you know who.”

That was true. Even though it had been Poppy’s idea to try to save Creek that had led to their capture and almost being digested nobody had been upset with her. Quite the contrary, actually. While they were rolling down the hall to their doom people still celebrated her new love with Branch. This development was fascinating for Branch. They would stay, even if things got messy. They would tease you for fun. And when things were good, they would sit in your living room and do common interests. After considering this for a while, he hugged Poppy back to signal that he was fine. As soon as he let go, she did too. 

“Okay,” Branch said slowly, looking around at his new friends. “I think it will be fun to try.”

“Great!” Poppy hopped up and down, clapping her hands, “I’ve got lots of games for you to try tonight!”

“Oh. Goody.” 

They laughed together at his dead-panned joke and gleefully Poppy hopped up on the arm of the couch, clapping her hands to draw everyone’s attention. The cowbell had been left in the old town and nobody had bothered to bring it back after the “incident”. Obligingly the Snack Pack looked at her, smiling but stopping their singing and dancing to listen. Once she had their attention she hopped down, gesturing at Branch.

“As you all know we have a newcomer tonight!” She paused while they applauded. “I think that due to this historical moment it would be beneficial to all to do some regular ol’ party games! Who’s up for some classics?”

“Like Encore?”

“How about Freeze Dance?”

“Both! Excellent suggestions, friends!”


End file.
